


The Night of the Returning Blink

by VivArney



Series: The Blink Series [3]
Category: Wild Wild West (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:39:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5624113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivArney/pseuds/VivArney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Second story in the Blink series</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night of the Returning Blink

"Credo quia absurdum"  
Latin: I believe because it is absurd.

Artemus Gordon frowned as he reread the words he'd scribbled on the notepad beside the telegraph key.  
“Imperative - Gordon and West return to Washington at once for follow-up on information reported in Loveless incident 5-30-76.”

"Bad news?" James West asked as he stepped into the room.

"What? No, I'm just puzzled."

West sat down on one of the settees. He shrugged. "I'll bite. What are you so puzzled about?"

Artie stood. "Colonel Richmond wants us back in Washington."

"What's so puzzling about that?"

"It's about that case in Kinsley, Kansas last year."

"That time travel business?"

Artie nodded. "Yes. Evidently, somebody wants to pick our brains about it."

"It's Dr. Loveless' brain they should be picking," West said.

Artie nodded his agreement. "You have a point, but orders are orders. And, since there's been no sign of Dr. Loveless in almost six months, we're the only ones they can ask."

"I'll go tell Casey," Jim said with a sigh.

Artie crumpled the paper and threw it into the nearest wastebasket.

* * * * *

When they arrived at the Washington train depot, Jim and Artie were met by a tall, dark-haired man who introduced himself as Rupert Dayton.

"So, Mr. Dayton, what's all this about?"

"I'm afraid Colonel Richmond hasn't briefed me, Mr. Gordon," Dayton said as he led them to a waiting carriage.

The ride to the Secret Service Headquarters in the Treasury Building was uneventful and much too quiet for either of the agents to feel comfortable. Dayton left them almost before they had emerged from the carriage. The abruptness of his departure, made both of them slightly nervous, but they tried to shrug it off as they walked into Colonel Richmond's office.  
"James, Artemus, I'm glad you could come so quickly," Colonel Richmond said. "Come in. Sit down."

"What's all this about, Colonel?" Artie asked as he and West settled themselves in the matching chairs opposite the older man.

"I wanted more information on that incident in Kansas."

"Such as?"

Richmond steepled his fingers and consulted the file on his desk. "There are certain parties who are considering a second...."

Artie suddenly understood. "They want to repeat Dr. Loveless' experiment! You can't be serious! Don't they realize how incredibly dangerous that could be?"

"They only want to have a chat with the woman you met."

Gordon shook his head. "Out of the question, sir."

"What exactly are they planning to ask her?" Jim asked with a glance in his partner's direction.

Richmond silently handed them a sheaf of papers.

West looked on as Gordon quickly read the neatly printed list of questions and threw it down onto the desk.

"Vivian won't tell you anything," Artie insisted. "She's well aware of the potential danger involved. Besides, if you and this committee of yours had read the reports more carefully, you'd have realized we've already established that the history of her world is very different from ours. In her world - universe - dimension, if you like - we're fictional characters."

"Nevertheless, the committee has decided to bring her back here and ask her some questions and they'd like you two to help."

"Convince her to co-operate, you mean," Jim said.

"If necessary."

The agents barely glanced at each other before they stood and started for the door.

"Where do the two of you think you're going?"

"We won't be part of this," Artie said in a quiet, dangerous voice.

"There's another reason for your trip."

"And that is?" Jim asked, turning back.

Richmond took a deep breath. "It seems there is a man named Cullen Hayden here in Washington who says his birth date is August 10, 1940. He claims Dr. Loveless brought him back to our time from the future to perform a certain mission. We'd like to verify his story."  
"There are much easier ways to verify his story than...."

"Gentlemen, please. This is a matter of national security, or shall I say future national security. He claims a president from the future will be assassinated in Dallas, Texas in 1963 and that he had a hand in it." Richmond held out a sheet of neatly  
handwritten notes.

"Well, you can't very well incarcerate a man for committing a crime that hasn't happened yet," Artie said as he took the sheet and scanned it.

"That's why we need your help and the help of your friend from the future. We want to verify that this assassination actually took place and prevent him from accomplishing the next part of his mission."

"That being?" Jim asked.

"The assassination of President Hayes."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Jim asked.

"Yes. That puts an entirely different light on the subject," Artie agreed. "But why get Vivian involved in all this? She would only have been two or three years old when this other president was allegedly assassinated. How can she help you?"

"With information. If we can learn from the tragedies of her world, perhaps we can prevent ourselves from making the same mistakes."

Artie shook his head. "I'm afraid it won't work, Colonel. Vivian's pretty well versed in her world's history, but she still didn't know the answers to most of Dr. Loveless' questions."

"Gentlemen, the members of the committee are going to go ahead with the experiment with, or without, your co-operation. Before you get too bound up in ethics, think about the woman. Wouldn't it be easier for her to see people she knows, rather than being surrounded by strangers?"

Artie frowned. Richmond had a point. He pulled Jim off to the side and the agents spent a couple of moments in a heated, whispered discussion and, despite Jim's continued protests, Artie finally, reluctantly agreed.

"I'd like one concession," Artie said.

"And what would that be?"

"That Jim and I go forward in Time to get her."

Richmond considered it, then nodded. "Very well. Provided you take another agent with you."

"Who?"

"Rupert Dayton."  
Artie shook his head. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Colonel. It would be better if we cause as little contamination as possible."

Richmond shrugged. "As you said, her universe is different from ours, how much contamination can there be?"

Artie sighed. "Very well, Colonel, but she's not going to like it."

"Dr. Loveless' machine is being uncrated tonight. Be ready to leave from here first thing tomorrow morning."

The men nodded and left the room without another word.

* * * * *

That night, Jim and Artie tossed restlessly in their beds on the train. As much as they disapproved of their most recent assignment, they were excited about the opportunity to visit another time.

Artie finally got out of bed, pulled on his dressing gown and walked into the parlor of the train. He wasn't surprised to find his partner sitting at the small table with a large cup of black coffee.

West poured his friend a cup and held it out to him. "I had a feeling you'd be joining me."

Gordon took the cup and sat down at the table. "What are we going to do, Jim?"

"I saw the security around that room, Artie, there's no way for either of us to get close enough to steal it. That's ignoring the fact that it took five of us to load it onto the train in Kinsley. I suppose we'll have to do exactly what Colonel Richmond asked us to do - more or less."

Artie's dark eyes narrowed. "What are you planning?"

"Colonel Richmond's expecting us to leave at 8 o'clock, right?"

"We leave earlier and...."

West nodded. "And we don't have to take the Colonel's bloodhound with us."

"You think the committee is up to something, don't you?"

"Don't you?"

"Yes, of course. Why the insistence that we take Dayton along?"

Artie shook his head. "No, Jim, they'll only send him after us. If we take him with us, we'll be able to keep an eye on him and, with luck, keep the contamination to a minimum."

"Could you rig some way of destroying the time machine?"

"I could, of course. I probably should have the first time," Artie said regretfully. "I just don't know what it would do to the fabric of Time. Remember what happened with Colonel Vautrain? There were all kinds of odd sightings in the area for days."

Jim sighed in resignation. "All right, we can't destroy it, we can't steal it, we can't prevent them from using it. What can we do?"

"Go for a little trip, I suppose, then maybe find a place to hide it when we get back where no one will find it."

Jim nodded. "What do you think it will be like, Artie?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"In Vivian's time? I don't know, but based on some of the things she told us, it's bound to be interesting."

* * * * *  
"Good morning, Mr. MacKenzie. It's 6:45am and it's forty-five degrees," I said into the phone receiver. I didn't usually bother with the temperature, but I was in a good mood and, for once, I didn't have too many wake-up calls despite having a whole hotel full of people. Besides, the Front Office Manager was standing behind me, watching, and he had a thing about the "scenarios" that the anal retentive bigwigs at the corporate offices kept sending our way.

There were times I, and the other operators, swore that if some other hotel started doing singing wake-up calls, they'd have us doing them too. They'd have been royally screwed if they'd tried it though - I can't sing.  
There was a muffled groan from the other end of the phone and I couldn't help but grin.

"Good morning," I said, trying not to sound too cheerful, but this was the last wake-up call I had to do before I left for a well-earned, two week vacation.

"Grumphf."

"Mr. MacKenzie, are you awake?"

"Grumphf."

"Mr. MacKenzie, if you don't get up, I'm going to send somebody up there with a very large bucket of ice water," I threatened sweetly.

"What?"

That always gets their attention. I grinned and repeated my warning.

"I'm up!"

"No, you're not." I didn't ordinarily keep after a guest like that, but Tom MacKenzie had been out drinking with his buddies pretty late the night before. Unfortunately, his buddies didn't have an eight o'clock flight to catch. "Let's hear those feet hit the floor."

"You're a cruel woman, Viv," he muttered.

"Don't you try to sweet-talk me. Get a move on."

"I'm up!"

"Good. Have a good flight."

"Thanks, Viv."

"See ya next month."

Tom MacKenzie was a frequent guest and he and I had developed a sort of running banter. He made passes at me and I turned him down flat, but it was all in fun and we both knew it.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

My boss was shaking his head and laughing. "You've got a mean streak a mile wide."

"I got him up, didn't I?"

"Get outta here," he ordered. "Have fun on your vacation."

"Hey, two weeks away from this place, how can I not have fun?" I stood and unplugged the handset from the switchboard I'd been using so any incoming calls would go the other console. "I guess I'll blow off breakfast today, since you're letting me leave early," I said as I pulled on my coat and picked up the large backpack I carried to work.

"You'd better go then, before he changes his mind," Tina, the other operator, said.

"Exit stage right - warp nine!" I said loudly as I charged down the narrow hallway. I stopped just long enough to clock out before I cut through the hotel kitchen, took the service elevator down to the basement and ducked out through the employee entrance.

One of the hotel maintenance engineers was sitting in the smoking area in front of the Engineering office. Miguel was a friend of mine, so I stopped for a moment to talk to him. He had just bought a new computer - one that made Glitch, my 5 year old computer, look like an abacus - and he was very excited about it.

He was just telling me about the size of his hard drive when his walkie talkie crackled.

"Base to Engineer."

Miguel shrugged and keyed the mike. "Engineer."

"Has Vivian passed that way yet?"

"She's right here," he answered, ignoring my wild gestures urging him to say the opposite.

"There are three men here to see her."

Miguel handed me the walkie talkie with a grin.

"Remind me to kill you later," I muttered before I pushed the mike button and spoke into the small grid. "I'M ON VACATION!"

"They said it was important."

"Are they guests?"

"No. They said they were friends of yours."

I frowned. None of my friends would show up unexpectedly unless something was wrong. Not to mention the fact that, aside from work, I knew very few men. I sighed. So much for starting my vacation early. "Tell 'em to stay put. I'll be right up."

"Okay, they're waiting by the bellstand."

"Thanks." I handed the walkie talkie back to Miguel and slugged him in the arm for turning on me. "Traitor."

I picked up my bag and walked back down the long corridor to the service elevators. As I passed through the kitchen, some smart aleck yelled "That was a short vacation!" and received a dirty look in return.

* * * * *

I don't know what I was expecting to find when I rounded the corner by the bellstand, but finding James West and Artemus Gordon standing with another man in the lobby of the hotel where I'd worked for seven years was not something I'd have imagined.Sure, three years earlier, I'd gotten tangled up with some plot of Dr. Miguelito Loveless' to screw up the Presidential race in 1876, but finding them here was almost too much for me to believe.

"Good morning, Vivian," Artie said, grinning the way my cat, Niño, does when he's just swiped the bacon off my plate.

"Holy Sh--! Artie? Jim? How the hell?"

Artie's grin widened. "I told you she'd be glad to see us."

"Of course, I'm glad to see you, but what are you doing here?"

Jim looked around at the guests and employees milling around in the lobby "It's a little... complicated."

I nodded. "Figures. Isn't it always?" I looked around. "Yeah, it is a bit public, isn't it?" I brailled around in my coat pocket. For once, I had my wallet and there was a money machine not more than a block away. There was even money in my bank account for a change. "Come on, guys, I'll buy you breakfast."

"Mr. West, this is getting us nowhere," the other man said impatiently.

I saw Jim turn around and give him a threatening look.

"Who's your friend?" I asked Artie.

"Secret Service Agent Rupert Edward Dayton at your service, Miss Arney," he said proudly, clicking his heels.It was all I could do to keep from grinning. I'd never actually seen anyone click their heels before except in movies. "Hi, Rupert. Welcome to 1994." I looked him over without being too obvious about it. He wasn't too bad looking, but he reminded me of 'Ben Kowalski' from the "Fifteen Years Later Affair" - big, dumb and musclebound.

"Thank you."

I turned back to Jim and Artie. "Okay, let's go get something to eat and you can tell me what's going on." I pulled my blindstick out of my bag and unfolded it with a flick that made Rupert jump. I looked over at Artie. "Green, huh?"

"As grass, I'm afraid," he answered with a smile as we walked out through the heavy glass doors and into the bright sunshine. I stopped and pulled my sunglasses out of my pocket and slipped them on over my regular glasses.

"I don't suppose you have another pair of those?" Artie asked, squinting.

"Sorry. Look, we need to take a cab. Why don't y'all wait by that planter there. I've got to get some cash."

"I'll come along," Artie offered.

"Okay, but there's no point in all of us going. We can take a cab from the front of the hotel."

Jim nodded and he and Rupert sat down on the planter as Artie and I walked down the street.

"How'd y'all find me?" I asked as we waited at the corner for the light to change.

"The only building we had a feeling would still be standing was the Capitol Building, so we used it as a landmark. Jim and I remembered your stories about the hotel where you worked, so we just asked the first person we saw for directions."

We crossed the street and went over to the A.T.M. machine.

"Why'd y'all let Dr. Loveless rebuild his time machine?" I asked as I stuck my card into the slot.

"It wasn't a matter of anyone actually letting him to rebuild it."

"He broke jail and stole it back, huh?" I guessed as I punched the buttons.

"Well, it wasn't exactly Dr. Loveless who...." Artie watched three twenties drop into the bin. "Incredible! You just push buttons and the machine gives you money?"

"It helps if there's money in your bank account. Luckily, yesterday was payday." I put the cash, card and receipt into my pocket. We started back to the hotel and I explained about A.T.M. cards.

Just as we passed the alley, a hand wrapped itself around my arm and pulled, then pushed hard. "Hey!" I yelled as I was shoved against the nearest wall.

The next thing I knew, I was falling and Artie was scuffling with the guy who'd grabbed me.

I landed hard and came up mad. Some jerk had tried the same thing on me twelve years earlier and he wound up missing some particularly delicate equipment by the time I'd finished with him. I folded my cane in half and started yelling and swinging just as another man came running down the alley toward us.

The second guy let out a yell when I cracked him in the head with my blindstick and started to come after me, but he suddenly froze, staring at something behind me. A split second later, he and his partner took off running.

I felt somebody come up behind me and try to take my cane away. I started to hit at them, but a hand grabbed my wrist tightly.

"Relax!" a familiar male voice ordered. "It's me."

I turned around to see Jim behind me and Rupert standing, gun drawn, in the entrance to the alley.

"Boy, am I glad to see you two!" I said.

Jim let go of my wrist and handed me back my cane. "Are you all right?"

I nodded as I tried to catch my breath. "Yeah, just mad, that's all."

"Artie?"

His partner nodded as Rupert helped him to his feet. "I'll live," he said, then winced as he tried to put weight on his right leg.

"What is it?" West asked, worriedly.

Artie was rubbing his knee and wincing. "My knee... I think it's only bruised. Vivian must have hit it with her cane during the fight."

I said something rude, then tried to apologize.

He waved the apology away and chuckled. "You know, I've heard of 'blind rage' before, but I've never seen it until today. That cane of yours packs quite a wallop."

"Sorry, Artie. Look, maybe we should forget about breakfast and go straight to my place. We can put some ice on Artie's leg and I'll see what I can dredge up for us to eat."

"No, I'll be fine. Besides, all this activity has given me an appetite."

"Are you sure?" West asked.

"I'll be fine. Now, let's go. We've got a lot to talk about."

I shrugged. "Okay, I know a place that makes killer breakfast tacos."  
The three men exchanged puzzled glances.

"I think she means a restaurant that serves good food," Jim ventured with a grin.

I grinned. "You got it."

We walked back to the hotel and luckily found a taxi-van waiting at the curb. Artie, Jim and I piled into the back seat while Rupert sat up front with the driver. I gave the cabbie the address of the restaurant and he pulled out into traffic.  
I could tell all three of them were about to burst with curiosity, but they were smart enough to ask only tourist type questions. I suddenly realized, although I'm sure I knew it before, that they had never seen cars, planes or buildings more than five or six stories tall. A lot has changed in a hundred and twenty years or so.

Jim spotted a pretty blonde in a little red sports car and grinned. "I wouldn't mind having one of those."

"The girl or the car?" Artie asked with a grin.

Jim shrugged. "Either one - both."

I couldn't help but laugh. Jim West was still Jim West - in any century.

After about ten or fifteen minutes, we pulled up in front of the restaurant. I paid the cab driver and we got out. The interior of Rosita's Cafe was dark and smelled wonderful!

We took a table in the far corner - away from the few other customers who'd come in for breakfast this early on a Saturday morning.

I made sure my back was to the window so I could see better then took off my sunglasses and dropped them into my coat pocket before I took off my coat and hung it over the chair.

Artie took the chair across from me and Jim sat on my right. Rupert took a seat on my left.

The waitress came over and set glasses of water on the table.

The others were quiet as she laid menus in front of us, then waited while we looked the selections over and ordered. She brought the orders back quickly enough: Migas, coffee and orange juice for Jim and me, Breakfast Tacos and coffee for Artie and Rupert, then she vanished.

Any other time, I'd have thought her disappearing like that was rude, but this morning, I was glad of it.

"Okay, guys, what's the deal?" I asked as I dug into my migas.

Artie took a deep breath. "We've come to take you back with us."

"Back where?"

"To our time."  
"Why? Y'all know how dangerous that can be."

Artie nodded. "There is some committee that would like to ask you some questions."

I shook my head. "You know better than that."

"Yes, but they're insisting that the safety of the country is involved," Rupert put in.

I gave him a dirty look. "Bull! What's really going on?" I asked Jim and Artie.

Artie took a deep breath. "A man named Cullen Hayden who claims he had a hand in the assassination of one of your presidents in 1963."

"Kennedy? You've got to be kidding."

Artie handed me a sheet of notes and as I read it, I heard the men go back to their breakfasts.

I frowned. "I don't know, guys, they've never really solved the Kennedy Assassination, but...."

"Supposedly, Dr. Loveless has hired him to kill President Hayes," Rupert added.

"Oh, sh--! That's not good."  
"Will you help us?" Artie asked.

"Are you kidding? Try and stop me. Of course, I'll help. You shouldn't even have to ask. I'll have to go home first, though. I think I may have a way to verify Hayden's story."

Rupert looked at the other men impatiently. "Must we?" he asked with a tired sigh.

"Look, Rupert, I didn't have a chance to get ready for my last trip. There're some things I want to bring along."

Jim and Artie nodded, but I could tell Rupert still wasn't convinced.

"Why are we wasting time with this?" Rupert asked impatiently.

The look Jim gave the younger man made me back away involuntarily. I knew that look and it worried me. I could tell Jim was considering doing something very painful to Rupert.

Artie put a hand on my arm and squeezed slightly. "It's all right," he said quietly as Jim grabbed Rupert's arm and hauled him around the nearest corner. "We didn't want to bring him along in the first place, but Colonel Richmond insisted. Rupert's a good man, just a bit... impatient. I think your time scares him."

"And it doesn't scare you or Jim?"

"With you as a tour guide? Naw!"  
"Well, it scares the hell out of me," I said and downed the last of my orange juice.

Artie frowned, then grinned. "Mine does too, sometimes," he admitted. "But then, very few of us ever have much choice in the matter, do we?"

I shook my head.

"Do you ever wish you'd stayed with us?"

I shook my head again. Three years ago, Artie had offered me a job with the Secret Service, but I hadn't taken him up on it. "Nope."  
Jim and Rupert came back about then. Rupert was obviously angry, but he apologized for his behavior. I accepted it and stood up to pay the tab. I asked the cashier to call us a taxi and the four of us left the restaurant.

* * * * *

The taxi dropped us in front of the little beige house I share with my friend, Miranda. Her silver Nisson was parked in the driveway next to her late grandfather's blue car.

"We'll have to keep it down," I warned as I bent to pay the cabbie. "My roommate's probably still asleep." I went up the door and unlocked it, then bent to catch an armload of grey and black striped feline shaped lightning as it flew off the back of the couch just inside the door. I struggled to keep a hand on the cat as we went inside.

"Nice reflexes," Jim said with a grin as he closed the weathered wooden door behind us.

"Practice makes perfect," I said. I reached over and turned on the lights, dropped the cat in one chair and my backpack into another.

The three of them stood looking around the room in amazement, taking in the worn - but comfortable - furniture, the full-size standees of Peter Graves and Fabio on the far wall, the cubes set up on the table to form a crude entertainment center with the TV, two VCRs, regular Nintendo, Super Nintendo and Sega units, racks of games, shelves of numbered video tapes and the rows of framed 8 x 10's that we called "The Rogues Gallery" covering a good portion of the interior wall - there was always room for a FEW more pictures.

Jim and Artie noticed their own portraits among the crowd, but naturally didn't recognize those of Scott Bakula, Duncan Regehr, Henry Darrow, David McCallum, Doug Barr, Mark Hamil, Robert Vaughn, Ron Harper, Dirk Benedict and several others.

"Have a seat," I told them. "I want to get out of these clothes, then I'll call a friend of mine and we can check on this Cullen Hayden."

Jim and Artie nodded and I started to duck into my bedroom.

"Oh, that's Niño, by the way," I said, pointing to the striped grey tabby that was eagerly snerfling at Rupert's shoes. "Tia's the black calico pretending to be a meatloaf on the couch over there."

A dusty blonde puff ball with white paws came barrelling into the living room, making an odd noise that sounded more like a crazed monkey chittering than the bark I knew she was attempting. I smiled. That chittering was as close as Miranda's four month old Pekingese, Princess Lee-a, could come to a bark - at least just now.

"May I?" Artie asked, reaching for the puppy.

"Sure, just watch out for her tongue," I warned. "It's loaded."

Artie scooped her up and cuddled her against his chest and, sure enough, a little pink tongue came flapping out and connected with the underside of Artie's nose. "My, you are a friendly one, aren't you?" he said with a soft chuckle.

"She's just flirting," I said as I left the room. I went into my bedroom and exchanged my work clothes for a long sleeved, black t-shirt with an enormous white "Z" across the chest, black  
sweatpants, white crew socks and sneakers.

I came back to find Niño curled up in Artie's lap, purring like a car with a bad muffler and Tia snuggled up beside Jim.

"Well, my cats like you, so I guess you're okay," I said with a laugh.

"Who was it you were going to call on?" Rupert asked.

"A friend of mine. I think I'll wait a little while though, it's still pretty early."

Artie stood and was giving our heavily loaded entertainment center a thorough examination.

"Fascinating!" he kept mumbling.

"Oh, yeah, watch this." I picked the remote up off the arm of  
Jim's chair and pushed some buttons. The television came to life with a beautiful color image of Artemus Gordon telling Agent Peters that Jim West couldn't possibly be dead and that he'd prove his partner hadn't killed four high government officials.  
Artie jumped back and Jim and Rupert stared in disbelief.  
Artie's shock didn't last long, though. He went right back to the television and pressed his nose up the screen. He backed away and shook his head in amazement. "If I hadn't seen it, I'd never have believed it. This is the... television series you were telling us about, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Thank Ted Turner for reruns! TNT's been running the full versions. WGN used to hack them to death. Too bad he's got a thing against black and white or he'd be running the episodes from the first year, too."

"How...? No, I won't ask," Artie said.

When it got to be around 9:30, I walked over to the Darth Vader speakerphone Miranda and I had set up in the hallway and dialed a number.  
After a few rings, my good friend, Anne, answered the phone.

"Hi, Anne. How's it going?"

"Very well. I've got the house all to myself this morning. I think I'll take a long bubble bath."

"Sounds like fun."

"Oh, it will be. What's up?"

"Have you got time to run me down to U.T. today? I need to do some research. After your bubble bath, of course. I wouldn't want you to miss that."

She laughed. "I suppose we could do that. How's eleven o'clock sound?"  
I glanced at my watch. That was almost an hour and a half from now. "Sounds great! I'll see you then. Thanks, Anne."

"No problem."

"Enjoy your bubble bath."

"I will, thanks. Bye."

"Bye." I pushed the button to hang up the phone.

Artie was frowning at me.

"What?" I asked.

"What was all that about?"

"Well, from the notes you showed me, this Hayden claims he graduated from the University of Texas in 1962."

"Yes."

"Well, the only place we're going to find a U.T. yearbook on a Saturday is the U.T. Library. And, since Anne works at U.T., she can get us into the library."

"Very clever," Artie said nodding.

"You didn't tell her about us," Jim said.

I shook my head and grinned. "I can't wait 'til she sees you two sitting in my living room."

Artie shook his head. "You're having too much fun with this situation."

"Artie, she'd never have believed me, even if I had told her you were here. I barely believe it myself"

I heard some bumping around in the rear of the house and knew  
Miranda was finally awake. After a few moments, I heard the shower in her bathroom start up and went back to let her know we had company.

We watched the end of the episode and the beginning of the next one before Miranda came in and stared at our visitors in disbelief. I had let her know we had company, but I hadn't told her who was here.

"Damn."

I grinned. "That's Rupert," I said, indicating the dark haired man sitting on the couch.

"Hi," Miranda said dazedly.

"I think you'd better sit down, Miranda," Artie said with a smile.  
Miranda plopped down on the black office chair. I could see her looking from one man to another in disbelief.

Jim, Artie and I told her what was going on. She shrugged.

"Sounds like fun," was all she said.

* * * * *

Artie asked for a tour of the house and Rupert wanted to know where the outhouse was. I led Rupert to the front bathroom and showed Jim and Artie the kitchen, the office and my bedroom.

Artie walked over to the computer and examined at the monitor and keyboard. "Another television? Or is it a typing machine?" he asked.

"Well, it's sort of both. That's my computer," I explained and reached down under the desk to turn on the C.P.U. Glitch made a soft whir as he came to life. The laser printer made its usual click-whir and I flipped on the monitor. I sat down and typed in a few characters to start a game called "Blockout," a sort of three dimensional version of "Tetris."

I stood and let Artie take my place. It took him a minute to get used to the keyboard and learn how to rotate the pieces, but, after a few tries, he was doing very well. Rupert seemed fascinated by my shelves of books and especially my 25 year old set of encyclopedias. He picked up a book at random, perched himself on a chair and started reading. Jim looked around the room and walked over to Miranda's brand new, it'll do everything but make coffee, computer.

"Two computers?"

"That one's mine," Miranda told him. She pointed to another keyboard and monitor set up on a side table. "That's a computer too," she went on pointing to her old Commodore.

We heard a crash from the living room and Jim and I rushed out to find one of my lamps hanging from its cord and Niño disappearing under the skirt of the threadbare plaid couch.

Usually, it was all we could do to keep my rambunctious one year old kitten, Niño, from his usual tricks - knocking things off shelves and terrorizing my fourteen year old cat, Tia - and today didn't look like it was going to be any different.

"Niño, get outta there!" I yelled. When I didn't hear the scuttle of flying feet, I turned around and kicked the end of the couch nearest to me. "Move it!"

My tabby cat poked his head out through the round hole in the skirt of the couch and looked up at me. I couldn't see his face clearly, but the tilt of his head suggested a 'who me?' expression. When he still didn't come out, I picked up the squirt bottle we kept handy for such things and gave him a blast of cold water, then kicked the couch again.

This time, I heard a flurry of feet on the hardwood floor and a grey blur shot out from under the opposite end of the couch.

"You really ought to hobble that cat," Jim muttered.

After a moment or two, I heard a deep growl and some caterwauling coming from my room.

"Leave Tia alone, Spud!" I warned as we went back into the office.

The sounds stopped and Tia limped into the office - this was nothing new, she'd had a dislocated hip all her life and, when it was cold, she limped. Today, it was very cold! She hopped up onto the nearest chair and began a leisurely bath. When Niño walked in a short time later, she growled at him, but didn't let his presence interrupt her. He hopped up onto Miranda's desk and curled up into a ball on top of my roommate's purple blotter as if nothing had happened.

When the doorbell rang a little while later, we all trooped into the living room and I sent Artie to the door to let Anne in. She looked around her in confusion and started to apologize.

"I must have the wrong house, but...."

"No, you don't have the wrong house," Artie said, stepping aside to let her into the living room. "You have a friend with a sadistic sense of humor."

Anne walked in and stared at the familiar room, taking in Jim sitting on the sofa with Niño in his lap, Miranda sitting beside him, Rupert in the green chair and me sitting in the blue chair in front of my standee of Peter Graves trying not to start coughing as I chuckled.

"Okay, Vivian, how'd you manage this one?" she asked.

"You'd never believe me."

Jim, Artie and Rupert had a long talk with her about Cullen Hayden while Miranda and I tried to help where we could.

It didn't take much coaxing to get Anne to agree to take one of the guys to U.T. while the rest of us sorted through my video collection for information on the Kennedy Assassination.

After some discussion, it was decided that Artie would go with Anne because the clothes he was wearing would attract the least attention. He looked like some Dallas big shot visiting Austin on business. Jim's bolero outfit was just too well known and Rupert's suit looked too much like a costume. We tried to convince them that Artie's gun had to stay at the house because of the gun control laws. After our near mugging this morning though, Jim wasn't too happy about it, but Artie just shrugged and put his gun onto one of the end tables. He and Anne left a few minutes later.

I knew I had some "Investigation Reports" episodes about the Kennedy assassination, so I cued up the tapes and Jim and Rupert started watching them. I offered to take notes for them and we were soon up and running.

My ex-sister-in-law appeared not long after we'd started and dropped Joseph, Shawna and Christopher, my niece and nephews, off for an unscheduled visit. This was nothing unusual, she'd done it before, but I never had a chance to tell her that I was busy that day. She barely stopped long enough to drop them off. She just handed Joseph a bag with training diapers for Christopher and a few extra clothes and took off.

I gave the kids hugs and introduced them to Jim and Rupert and we talked for a little bit.

"Okay, kids, I need you to help me with something," I said, after a few minutes. "We're working on something very important right now and we need to concentrate. So, I need y'all to go in my room and play for a little while, okay? You know where the toys are." I didn't want them seeing Kennedy's assassination when we came to it. I'd seen it on TV when I was little and it had given me nightmares for weeks.

"Bibi, can I play "Blockout" on your computer?" Joseph asked excitedly.

"I'll tell you what, Joseph, we'll go into the office and you can play "MegaRace" on my computer," Miranda offered.

Joseph's dark eyes widened. This was a rare treat. I often let the kids play games on my computer with very little supervision, but they weren't allowed to even go near Miranda's computer without her.

"What are you watching?" Joseph asked.

"It's some history tapes - really boring stuff," Jim said. "We wouldn't even be watching it, if we didn't have to."

Joseph gave him a "yeah right" look. I don't think he believed either of us, but he didn't say anything. Almost eight year olds are pretty quick to figure out you're up to something.

Miranda went into the office, set up the computer for Joseph to play "MegaRace" while I herded Shawna and Chris into my room to play with the toys I kept for them. Jim and I promised them it would only be for a little bit while we finished with the videos.

I'll give the kids credit, the business with the videos took almost two hours and they were very patient that day.

Jim and Rupert watched the video intently and I wrote down their comments and observations as the black car passed The Grassy Knoll and the shots rang out.

Jim paused the tape, frowned and turned to me. "When did all this happen?" he asked.

"Thirty one years ago, last week," I answered. "If this Cullen Hayden of yours did do it, he's got to be at least fifty - that is if Loveless pulled him from the same year he pulled me from."

Jim nodded. I could tell something was bothering him about the tape, but I didn't know how to ask him or whether I should. He picked up the remote and reran the shooting sequence twice before he slammed his hand down on the table. That's it! I knew it was all wrong. The shots had to have come from this direction..."

"Yeah," I agreed. "That's been one of the mysteries of the Assassination, the bullets didn't match the gun, the trajectories of the bullets didn't match up.

After we'd finished with the videos, I called for the kids to come back into the living room. Joseph asked to play on the Nintendo and for me to play too.

"Not right now, Joseph," I said.

"Will you play with me?" Joseph asked Jim.

 

"Why not?" Jim agreed.  
I pulled out the extra controller and he and Jim sorted through the games for a few minutes before they settled on one of Miranda's called "Klax." I picked up Chris and we watched as Jim and Joseph tried to match the colored tiles.

"Want Coke, Bibi," Chris said.

"Okay," I said. "I'll bet everybody's thirsty. Shawna, do you want to help me?"

Shawna nodded and followed me into the kitchen. "Can we make lemonade?"

"We're out of lemons, Pretty. How 'bout cherry?" I offered as I saw Rupert go into the office, but I didn't think anything of it at the time.

"Yeah!" she agreed excitedly.

Shawna and I came back with glasses of cherry Kool-aid for the kids and sodas for me, Jim, Miranda and Rupert and passed them around.

"Thank you, Shawna," Jim said and gave Shawna a big smile as he took the glass from her. "How old are you?"

She held up five fingers.

"Well, you're a very pretty little girl," he told her.

Shawna ducked behind Miranda's chair and peeked out from behind it.

I smiled as Shawna ran over to me and gave me a hug, her dark eyes still on Jim. "She's a little shy," I apologized.

"She certainly doesn't take after her aunt," he said.

"Wanna bet?" I challenged. "I don't like strangers either."

"You weren't scared of Artie and me."

"You're not strangers," I reminded him. "Don't forget, I've been watching you two since I was Joseph's age."

* * * * *

Anne and Artie's Excellent Adventure:

For some reason, the State of Texas has a persnickety prejudice against granting driver's licenses to people who can't see. Mind you, they have no such scruples about issuing licenses to people who can't THINK, as I am reminded on a daily basis in my peregrinations around town. But I digress. My good friend and co-editor Vivian, being legally blind, can't drive, so every now and then I give her a lift.

This particular Saturday, I'd been looking forward to having the apartment to myself while Owen and Emrys had a day out, but one can only take so many bubble baths, and the apartment seemed a little lonely and empty. So, when Vivian called to ask for a ride to UT I was looking forward to getting out and seeing her.  
About ten to eleven I got into my car and drove over to Vivian's; her house is only a few minutes away. It was one of those bright cool days they call 'winter" around here. Vivian keeps her house kind of dark, because she sees better that way, and it always takes a while for my eyes to adjust. When I knocked on the door, then, and a stranger answered, I really couldn't see who it was.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, looking around for the house number. I could see Miranda's car and her grandfather's old car in the driveway.

"You don't have the wrong house," said the stranger. His voice sounded familiar but I couldn't place it. He stepped aside and ushered me in, adding, "You have a friend with a sadistic sense of humor."

As my eyes adjusted to the dim living room, I stared around it. James West, big as life and twice as pretty, was sitting on Vivian's sofa. Miranda was sitting next to him, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary. A man I didn't recognize was in Miranda's usual chair. Niño, that lucky beast, had the place of honor in West's lap. If that was Jim West, I thought slowly to myself, then that man at the door had to be.... I turned around and my jaw dropped as Artemus Gordon smiled at me.

I recovered about half of my composure and turned to find Vivian doing something between a laugh and a cough. I advanced upon her threateningly and put my hands around her neck. "You sadistic fiend!" I said, rocking her back and forth. Not very hard. Vivian smirked.

I glared up at her. It's hard to be threatening when your intended victim has a good six inches on you. "How'd you manage this one?

"You'd never believe me," she said.

I gestured to Messrs. Gordon and West. "No matter how unbelievable your explanation may appear, you do have incontrovertible evidence."

"OK," Vivian said. "You remember that time Dr. Loveless kidnapped me back to the 1870's....?" She went on to explain. It was difficult to believe but there was the undisputable presence of two of my favorite TV characters in Vivian's living room. I know less about history than Vivian, and I'd never heard of Cullen Hayden, but I do know my way around PCL - the big library at UT - and I agreed to take Artie there to look for evidence of the conspirator.

* * * * *

We got into my old blue Chevy and I made Artie buckle up.

He watched in absolute fascination as I put the key in the ignition and started the car. "How does it work?" he asked.

I told him. I had pretty much exhausted my limited understanding of internal combustion by the time we pulled out onto Koenig Lane and he was still asking questions. It was like having Emrys in the car when he was two. Artie wanted to know everything. But when Emrys was two, he was safely strapped into a car seat in the back, while Artie was relatively loose in the front seat. I let him play with the radio and the air conditioner but when he turned the defrost on the wrong setting and fogged the entire windshield, I smacked his hand.

Abashed, he settled back. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Smith," he said.

"You can call me Anne, Mr. Gordon," I said. I'd always THOUGHT of him as "Artie," but I didn't feel actually calling him that when I'd just met him.

"Artie," he corrected.

And he smiled at me. You're a married woman, I said sternly to myself. Not only that, it's your HUSBAND who got you to be an Artie fan in the first place! But he did have a nice smile....

I like to drive with the windows down - thankfully, the temperature had gone up quite a bit since that morning - and as we pulled onto the highway and got up to speed I could see Artie was enjoying the rush of the wind. He looked around the lanes of the highway. "How fast are we going?"

"About a mile a minute," I said. He began to put his head out the window. "Don't put anything out the window unless you're prepared to lose it," I said, doing an imitation of my mother.

He drew it back in. "But it's so...."

"Exhilarating?"

"Exactly," he beamed.

The University of Texas at Austin, my sometime employer, is only a few exits down the highway from Vivian's, and we were there in no time. As it was Saturday, we had no trouble finding a parking space just a few blocks from the library. In fact, we parked in front of Waggener Hall, a crumbling old edifice that houses the Departments of Philosophy and Classics. That reminded me of something that had been niggling at the back of my head. We got out of the car and began walking to PCL.

Before I could ask the question I had thought of, Artie said,

"What do you DO here? Vivian said you worked for the University."

"Not this semester, actually," I said. "I'm what they call adjunct; I only get hired when there's an overload." We had walked past Waggener; the gleaming new Graduate School of Business loomed to our right. "Listen, Artie, there's something bothering me about this whole time-travel affair."

"And what would that be?" he asked.

"I have a real serious problem with free will and determinism. Like, this morning, I bet Vivian showed you "The Night of the Big Blast." this morning."  
"Yes," he said, looking extremely pleased.

"OK," I said. "Now take any line at random. Did you say, oh, 'I'm going to find Jim West or die trying' of your own free will?"

"Of course," he said.

"So the reason the Artie on TV said it is because you said it - not vice versa."

He pouted. "I AM the original, you know."

"Well, of course," I said soothingly. We had reached the intersection of Speedway and 21st Street and waited for our turn to cross. "Now, think about the scriptwriter -- the playwright -- for that episode. Do you think; when he wrote that episode, he was exercising his own free will?"

Artie thought for a minute, until we had crossed 21st street.  
"Well, yes."

"Your actions in the alternate past didn't determine his creative choices in our 1960's?"

"I don't see how they could."

"Then if YOU had free will and HE had free will, where's the causal influence? Why do your words and actions coincide with the TV show when neither of you determines the other?"  
He stopped just outside the library and scratched his head. Then he pointed at me. "It COULD be a huge coincidence, couldn't it?" he said.

"It's extraordinarily improbable," I protested.

"But it's possible, yes?"

"Possible, yes," I admitted. "In the broadest possible sense. It's not logically self-contradictory."

He put an arm around my shoulders and steered us both into the building. "Then, as one of my favorite time travellers, Miss Vivian Arney, is wont to say, what's a temporal paradox or two between friends?"

We came into the lobby of PCL, the Perry-Castaneda Library. Even on a Saturday, it was bustling. There was a long line off to our left of people checking out books; we could hear the steady beep of the electronic pens across the barcodes. Ahead and to our right, students moved among the card catalogs and OCLC computers. More directly to our right was an information kiosk and beyond that, the reference room. I pointed to the kiosk and said, "We'll start there."

We waited until the work-study aide behind the counter had pointed someone else to the right place in the stacks, and then "ahem'd" quietly to get her attention. As she turned toward us I was pleased and surprised to recognize one of my students from last semester.  
"Dr. Smith!" she exclaimed softly. "Are you teaching here this semester?"

"No. Just at the community college," I said. "How are YOU doing, Joanne?"

"Fine, fine. What can I do for you?"

I turned to Artemus, who was staring at me, and back to Joanne.

"Where do I find old Cactus yearbooks?"

She gave us directions and as we headed away from the information booth Artie plucked my sleeve. "Doctor Smith?"

"Yeah," I said. "Not a real doctor, a Ph.D. Medieval philosophy.  
You asked me what I did here. When they have extra classes, I teach."

Artie shook his head. "You don't look like a Ph.D."

I stopped, hands on hips, and looked him up and down. "YOU don't look like a Secret Service agent."

We reached the yearbooks, pulled out the likeliest years, and began checking. First, we checked the senior photos, then, we looked at all the other classes and the various clubs. At first, it was amusing looking at the funny old-fashioned haircuts from around the time I was born, and the quirky tags under the photos. It was especially odd to remind myself that what was old fashioned to me was still in the future for Artie. After we had gone through several years without success, however, the procedure lost a good deal of its charm.

"Could he be in another school in the UT system?" I whispered.

"Like University of Texas at Arlington, or El Paso?"

"No, he was very specific in claiming to be from UT-Austin."

"Like he WANTED you to come here. It almost sounds like somebody's jerking your chain."

Artie absorbed the metaphor without comment, frowned and looked around. "It does, doesn't it?"

I could almost see the wheels going around in his head. Finally he looked at me. "Is there any other way to ascertain whether he was here?"

"On a Saturday....?" I thought hard. "You say he only got a bachelor's here?"

Artie nodded. That ruled out checking the microfilm database for a Master's thesis or doctoral dissertation. There would be records at the Registrar's, of course, and possibly in the Departmental Office of whatever his major was, but we'd have to wait for Monday. I shook my head.

"Let's return to base, then," he said. "At least we have some information, even if it's negative." He began to pick up the yearbooks from the table, but I pointed to a nearby sign that said, "DO NOT SHELVE BOOKS. LEAVE THEM ON A TABLE." He shrugged and left the books where they were.

Artie looked so downcast that I wanted to cheer him up. As we walked back into the lobby I had an idea. "C'mere," I said, tugging his sleeve. I led him over to one of the OCLC computers, which tap into the database that's gradually replacing the card catalog. "You want to try looking something up?"

He looked at the screen, which was displaying the result of the last search conducted, something about Rommel and the battle of El Alamein. I moved quickly to clear the display, but Artie caught my arm.

"Wait," he said. "Let me try." He studied the directions at the bottom of the screen, typed "HELP," poked around for a few seconds, and hit the ENTER key. This brought up a menu and instructions.

Twenty minutes later, I dragged Artie by sheer physical force away from the computer. He had been chiefly exploring the chemistry subject headings, swerving occasionally into medicine or technology. He knew better than to ask to check any books out. I felt as if I'd shown a kid a candy store and then told him he couldn't have any.

"By the way," Artie said casually as we left PCL, "who or what is  
'Rommel?'"

The man doesn't miss a trick, I thought to myself. He noticed I didn't want him to see that. How do I tell him that there's going to be not one, but two World Wars in his future, my past? I did some quick math in my head. If Artie got married either soon enough or very late, he might live to see one of his children or grandchildren die in World War I!

"He was a famous general," I said at last. "But I don't think I'm s'posed to tell you too much about history. I mean, the future. I mean... well, you know." I couldn't look at him.

"I know," he said gently. He looked around the campus, whose well-kept roads and lawns and huge buildings spoke of prosperity and time devoted to peacetime pursuits. "It came out all right in the end, didn't it?"

"Yes," I said.

We piled back into the car and headed back to Vivian's. "I wish we'd found something," I said as I steered us back out into traffic.

"What we DIDN'T find may prove even more important," said Artie. Something brightly colored caught his eye and he reached into the tray between the front seats. "What's this?" he asked, pulling out a toy jet about the size of a Matchbox car.

"Oh, those belong to my little boy," I said. We kept a handful of them in the car, ostensibly for Emrys' entertainment on long trips, actually because I was too lazy to remind him to bring them in.

"I didn't THINK it was yours," he said. "But what IS it?"

"It's a jet," I said.

Artie gave me a look that plainly said, "Fat lot of good THAT does me."

"It goes in the air," I added helpfully. He looked at the toy again.

We pulled out onto the highway and for once, the timing was perfect. "Look up," I suggested.

The planes coming into Robert Mueller Airport frequently use a flight path that brings them in very low across the highway, low enough to make drivers duck. Artie stared out the window at the 707 barely clearing our heads and I saw something I never thought I would see: Artemus Gordon at a loss for words.

* * * * *

"Well?" Rupert asked after Artie and Anne returned after a few hours.

"Nothing. No evidence at all that Cullen Hayden ever went to the University of Texas."

"We could wait 'til Monday and check with the Registrar's office," Anne offered.

Jim shook his head. "There's no time. We've only got until 6 o'clock tomorrow morning."

"What did you find out from the videos?" Anne asked.

"Yes, anything interesting?" Artie wanted to know.

"Nothing really useful," Jim told them. "There's are several theories about the assassination, but nobody's really solved it yet."

Artie nodded. "Just like Lincoln."

"Yeah, they're still trying to solve that one," I agreed. "I mean, they know Booth did it, they're still trying to find out how deep the conspiracy went. It's the same with both of the Kennedy assassinations."

"Both?" Artie asked.

I nodded and told them what I'd heard about Robert Kennedy's assassination. "I don't have anything on that one, though."

We heard a car honk outside and I looked out the window to see Dawn's car in the driveway. That stopped the investigation for a few moments while I said goodbye to the kids and hustled them out the door.

"Hey, Bibi, how come that guy Rupert took your book?" Joseph asked, just before I closed the car door.

"Which book, Joseph?"

"The little fat one with the red cover you keep by your computer. The cyclopedia."

"Get your seatbelt on, Joseph," Dawn fussed.

"Wait a minute, Dawn," I snapped. I crouched down to his level. "Joseph, are you sure about that?"

He nodded.

"Where did you see him put it?"

"In his pocket," he said. "He went into the office while you were making Kool-Aid. I had to go the bathroom and he was looking at the books in the office."

"I knew that slimy bast...." I leaned into the car to give him a kiss and a hug. "Thanks, Joseph, you did real good. I'll take care of it."

"That guy, Jim, is really neat," Shawna said as I gave her a hug and kiss as well.

"Yeah," I agreed. "His friend, Artie's pretty neat, too. Okay, guys, you be good. I love you."

I heard a chorus of "I love yous" as I shut the car door and Dawn sped off.

"You're welcome for the babysitting, Dawn," I mumbled as I went back in the house.  
I didn't even glance at Rupert as I picked up my glass and walked into the living room. I went into the office to make sure Joseph hadn't been mistaken about the book, went into the bathroom and flushed the toilet to cover my tracks, then walked into the hallway. "Artie, could you give me a hand in the kitchen for a minute?"  
Something in my voice must have tipped Artie off, because he didn't say a word, just followed me into the kitchen.  
"We've got a problem," I told him in a quiet voice as I wrestled with cubes of ice in the ice bucket. I knew I was probably making more noise than I needed to, but I didn't want Rupert to hear anything and start something.

"What is it?" he asked, matching his volume to mine.

"Rupert's got one of my books in his pocket," I told him. "Joseph saw him take it off my desk earlier."

"What sort of book?"

"A single volume encyclopedia," I told him. "Artie, we've got to get it away from him. It tells what happened to Hayes, all the presidents up until about five years ago, when and where inventions like the computer, television, microwave and nuclear bomb were made and how they work... For us, it's all past history, but..."

"But, in the wrong hands, the information in that book could thoroughly destroy our world."

"You got it."

"I'm glad the children are gone, this could get a little messy." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Don't say anything, let's just go back into the other room."

I nodded, picked up my glass of ice and a can of soda and followed him.

"What was that all about?" Rupert asked.

"Nothing much. I just wanted some cooking advice," I said. I sat down beside Anne on the couch and waited. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that Jim and Artie could take care of themselves. I just hoped they wouldn't wreck the place while they were at it.

"You know, James, it occurs to me that, if someone were able to take a certain book back to our time with them, that person could become a very wealthy man," Artie began.

Here it comes, I thought.

"Really, Artie? What sort of book would that be?"

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps a reference book of some kind. An encyclopedia maybe."

"Oh no, Artemus," Jim protested quietly. I could almost hear the wheels spinning. "I think that sort of book would be much too dangerous for people in our time," he finished.

"You're right, of course, but then you never know about some people, do you?"

"No, I guess not," Jim said. He drew his gun and whirled to face Rupert in a single movement. "Hand it over, Dayton," he ordered.

"Hand what over?"

"The encyclopedia, you fool!" Artie snapped as he drew his gun.

"Ladies, I think it would be a good idea for you to wait in the other room," Jim ordered.

We didn't argue. Miranda, Anne and I ducked into the kitchen without a word. The house is pretty small so we could still hear what was going on in the other room.

"Don't you two realize what potential good there is in this book?"

"It's more like potential disaster, Rupert," Artie said. "Yes, used properly, some of the information would save countless lives, but you know that won't happen."

"Just give it back, Rupert," Jim said.

"No, I... The Committee...."

"That's it, isn't it?" Artie said, suddenly understanding. "You weren't sent with us to bring Vivian back, you were sent to steal information!"

"And why shouldn't we exploit any possible chance to get ahead of our enemies?"

"Using information from the future is cheating. That's not the way to go about it and you know it."

"The Committee will have you...."

"What? Fired? Killed?" Jim asked. "If our government is that desperate for power, then I'm not sure I want to be a part of it."

"I'm sure," Artie said. "I'd rather leave the Service than be a party to that."

"Give it to me," Jim insisted.

Anne, Miranda and I let out a collective gasp as we heard a gun go off in the other room and then another shot and the sound of two bodies falling onto the hardwood floor.

"Vivian, you and your friends can come in now," Jim called.

We rushed in to find Artie sitting in Miranda's favorite chair, holding his left forearm tightly and Rupert lying on the floor.  
I stared down at Rupert. "Is he?"

"He's not dead," Jim answered. "I had to knock him out, that's all."

"Artie, are you okay?"

"Yes, I think so," he answered and I could hear the pain in his voice.

"I don't think so," Jim said.

"It's not all that bad," Artie protested, "he just nicked me."

I helped Artie take off his jacket and roll up his sleeve.

"That's going to need something a lot bigger than a band-aid," Anne said, frowning at the "nick" in concern.

"I'll be right back," Miranda said and she left the room in a hurry. She came back a few minutes later with some rope from the garage, some peroxide and an old sheet.

"Good thinking," Jim told her. She handed him the rope and he and Anne started to tie Rupert up. Jim pulled the encyclopedia out of Rupert's pocket and handed it to me. "I think that book has caused enough trouble for one day."

"Come on, Artie, let's see if we can get that bleeding stopped," I said. "I just hope it's not too serious, it's not like we can take you to the doctor."

He nodded. "I know."

Artie, Miranda and I walked into the bathroom. Miranda tore the old sheet into strips and hung them over the shower rod while I ran hot water in the sink and used an old washcloth to try to get the blood off Artie's arm.

"You know, maybe I'm a jinx," I teased. "The last time I was with y'all, you got hurt."

"As I recall, you did a pretty good job playing nurse last time, too," he said. "Doctor Loveless was very impressed."  
He winced a bit as we wrapped his arm in the strips of the old sheet.

"How's it feel?" I asked. "It's not too tight, is it?"

"No, you two did a fine job."

"Here," I said holding out a couple of tablets and a glass of water.

"What's this?"

"Just some Tylenol - painkiller. Your arm's gonna hurt like hell pretty soon. I'm hoping this will help a little. I just wish I had something stronger."

Artie took the tablets and swallowed them without any further argument.

Rupert was trussed up and waiting on the couch by the time we walked back into the living room.

"So what are we gonna do with "Super Spy" here?" I asked.

"We've got to find out who's on this 'Committee' he and Colonel Richmond kept mentioning," Artie told us. "Look, we've done all we can for the moment. We'll just have to go back and tell Colonel Richmond that Cullen Hayden is a fake," Artie said. He consulted his pocket watch. "We've got about twelve hours before we have to be back at the Capitol Building."

"I've already got my stuff together," I offered.

"That won't be necessary," Jim said. "There's no reason to take you back with us, now."

"Why not?"

"Well, you heard what Rupert said," Artie said. "The whole point of this expedition wasn't to bring you back, at all. Rupert was supposed to find out as much as he could about your history and bring the information back."

"And that encyclopedia would have done it," I agreed, nodding.

"But who's behind it all?"

"We'll have to wait until we get back to our time to find that out, I'm afraid," Artie admitted, peering into Rupert's eyes. "Jim hit him pretty hard. He'll probably be out for hours."

"In that case, since you've got about some time left, what do you say to a little sightseeing?" I asked.

"I thought you'd never ask," Jim said with a big grin.

"Won't he get loose?" Miranda asked.

"I doubt it," Jim said.

"When you've been tied up as often as Jim and I have, you learn what works and what doesn't," Artie explained with a grin.

"He won't be getting loose anytime soon," Jim assured us.

"Okay. We'll put a clean shirt on Artie and we're outta here."

"Blast!" Artie snapped.

"What?"

"I was going to offer to pay for dinner, but our money's no good here."

I laughed. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it. You guys are worth it."

Jim's eyes sparkled as he glanced in his partner's direction. "I don't suppose we...."

"It's hardly proper, James."

I laughed again. "If I didn't know you two were kidding..."  
They shot me puzzled glances.

"Let's just say there are some women that might get a little, shall we say "testy" about that "It's hardly proper" business of Artie's."

"Why?"

"It's called "Women's Lib," Jim," Miranda said with a laugh. "Women are given a lot more opportunities than they were in your time."

"And we're a lot more vocal about things, too," I added.

Anne stood up. "Listen, while Artie's changing his shirt, I'd better call my husband and let him know what's going on."

"Well, at least some things haven't changed," Artie said with a grin. "People do still get married."

I glared at Artie. "Some people get lucky. Owen's a great guy. The only guys that make passes at me are either married, ugly as sin or looking for a green card."

"Green card?" Jim asked.

"Citizenship," Miranda answered.

I turned to Anne. "Better yet, why don't you tell him we'll pick him and Emrys up on the way to the restaurant," I offered. "Call Leah and Connie too, have them meet us there."

Anne shrugged. "You're in a generous mood tonight. Which restaurant?"  
Miranda and I rattled off a list of our favorite restaurants and we explained the kind of food they served. We finally settled on a really fantastic Chinese / Vietnamese place called "Sea Dragon" and I took Artie into my room to find a shirt for him.

All I really had that was unisex were t-shirts and he didn't like them.

"You don't wear underwear in public," he kept insisting over my protests that t-shirts really didn't count as underwear anymore.

They all hung on him anyway and we finally ended up hauling out a shirt that had belonged to Miranda's grandfather that fit him pretty well.

By that time, Anne had called the gang and Jim checked Rupert's ropes once more before we piled into Miranda's car and Anne's and we left for the restaurant.

"You know, Rupert could report us for cruel and unusual punishment," Artie mused from the front seat of Miranda's car. We'd put him up there because he'd be less likely to bump his arm than if he'd tried to fold up into the back seat.

"Why?" I asked.

Artie chuckled. "He's allergic to cats."  
"And Niño was asleep on his lap when we left," I added with a grin.

* * * * *

We were all ready to go by 5am the next morning. We loaded Rupert into Miranda's trunk and the rest of us got into the car. We had to get the three of them back to the Capitol Building before 6am and that meant we had to carry Rupert at least part of the way.

He'd come to during the night while Jim, Artie and I had stayed up talking and they tried again to find out who the members of The Committee were, but Rupert either wouldn't tell them or didn't know so they gave up.

As we drove down I-35, my 39 or so hours of being awake finally caught up with me and I fell asleep with my head on Jim's shoulder. Jim woke me up as Miranda pulled into the driveway in front of the Capitol and we got out. I helped Jim pull Rupert out of the trunk. Artie tried to help, but his arm was really hurting by this time and, with the cold weather, he was having a lot of trouble. We carried Rupert to the spot where they'd arrived. I handed each of them a soft, bulky package.

"Don't open them 'til you get back on the train," I warned them.

Miranda and I gave Artie and Jim hugs goodbye. Artie pressed two thick, heavy coins into my hand.  
"Look, guys, I think you're great, but I hope I don't see you again except on television," I told them with images of "Back to the Future" flashing through my mind.

"Jim and I are going to find a way to dispose of Dr. Loveless' time machine as soon as possible."

"Great." I glanced down at my watch and when I looked back up again, they'd vanished. "Come on, Mir, I'll buy you breakfast," I said as we got back into the car. "There's this place I know that makes killer breakfast tacos."

* * * * *

Colonel Richmond looked up to see James West and Artemus Gordon arrive in his office, still holding Rupert Dayton by the knotted rope around his wrists.

"Well, gentlemen, how'd it...?" he began, then looked around in confusion. "I thought you were bringing..."

"She's not coming, Colonel, but have we got a story to tell you," Artie said as he and his partner let Rupert fall limply to the floor.

* * * * *

That evening, as Jim and Artie sat finishing dinner on the train, Jim suddenly frowned.

"What's the matter?"

"The packages! I can't believe we forgot to open them," he said reaching for the brightly wrapped gifts lying on the nearby couch.

"Well, James, we have been rather busy, after all," Artie reminded him.

"Don't you want to know what's in them?"

"Of course."

Jim handed his partner the package their friend from the future had handed him that morning and they quickly ripped the paper off to find two identical pieces of clothing - Vivian and her friends had called them t-shirts.

Artie and Jim roared with laughter as they read the bold lettering across the front of their gifts. “I went all the way to 1994 and all I got was a lousy T-shirt.”

* * * * *  
It was months later, when I was listening to a talking book about the history of the Secret Service and heard a piece telling about how a group of power hungry men who called themselves "The Committee" had almost brought about the destruction of the United States back in 1878. Their names, most of which I'd never heard before, were given along with Rupert's. A few of them had been executed for their part in the plot, including Rupert and a man listed only as Hayden, but the details of the attempt were still classified almost one hundred and twenty years later. I couldn't help but grin. Jim and Artie had managed to send a message that only I would understand. With Rupert and Hayden dead, their future was safe.


End file.
